Georgia was on the beach with her grandchildren when they suddenly pointed her to a nearby café. Her heart raced as they shouted the words that shattered her world. The couple at the cafe looked a lot like their parents, who had died two years earlier.
Grief changes you in ways you never expected. Some days it’s a dull ache in your chest. Other days it blindsides you like a stab to the heart.
That summer morning in the kitchen, looking at the anonymous letter, I felt something very different. I think it was hope mixed with a slight dread.
My hands trembled as I read those five words again, ‘They’re not quite gone.’
The crisp white paper felt like it was burning my fingers. I thought I was coping with my grief by trying to create a stable life for my grandchildren, Andy and Peter, after losing my daughter, Monica, and her husband, Stephen. But this note made me realise how wrong I was.
Two years ago, they were in a car accident. I still remember Andy and Peter constantly asking me where their parents were and when they would be back.
It took me many months to let them know that their mum and dad were never coming back. It broke my heart to tell them that they would now have to cope on their own and that I would be there for them when they needed their parents.
After all the hard work, I received an anonymous letter claiming that Monica and Stefan were still alive.
‘They’re…not completely gone?’ I whispered to myself, sinking down into a kitchen chair. ‘What kind of sick game is this?’
I crumpled up the paper and was about to throw it away when my phone buzzed.
It was my credit card company, alerting me to a charge on Monica’s old card. The one I kept active to keep a piece of her memory alive.
‘How is that even possible?’ I whispered. ‘I’ve had that card for two years. How can someone use it if it’s sitting in a drawer?’
I immediately called the bank’s customer service line.
‘Hello, this is Billy speaking. How can I help you?’ – A customer service representative answered.
‘Hello. I’d like to verify a recent transaction on my daughter’s card,’ I said.
‘Sure. May I know the first six and last four digits of the card number and your relationship to the account holder?’ asked Billy.
I gave him the details, explaining, ‘I’m her mother. She…passed away two years ago, and I managed her remaining accounts.’
A pause hung on the line, and then Billy spoke carefully. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that, Ma’am. I don’t see any transactions on that card. The one you’re referring to was made using a virtual card linked to the account.’
‘A virtual card?’ I asked, frowning. ‘But I never linked it to this account. How can a virtual card be active if I have a physical card?’
‘Virtual cards are separate from the physical card, so they can continue to function independently unless they are deactivated. Would you like me to cancel the virtual card for you?’ asked Billy softly.
‘No, no,’ I managed to utter. I didn’t want to cancel the card, thinking that Monica must have activated it when she was alive. ‘Please leave it active. Can you tell me when the virtual card was created?’
There was a pause while he checked. ‘It was activated a week before the date you mentioned that your daughter died.’
I felt a chill run down my spine. ‘Thank you, Billy. That’s all for now.’
I then called my closest friend Ella. I told her about the strange letter and the transaction on Monica’s card.
‘That’s impossible,’ Ella sighed. ‘Maybe it’s a mistake?’
‘It’s like someone wants me to believe that Monica and Stefan are out there somewhere, just hiding. But why would they… why would anyone do that?’
The fee wasn’t much. Just $23.50 at the local coffee shop. Part of me wanted to go into the shop and find out more about the transaction, but part of me was afraid I’d find out something I wasn’t supposed to know.
I figured I’d look into the matter over the weekend, but what happened on Saturday turned my world upside down.
On Saturday Andy and Peter wanted to go to the beach, so I drove them there. Ella agreed to meet us there to help me look after the kids.
The ocean breeze blew the salty spray, and the children splashed in the small waves, their laughter echoing across the sand. It was the first time I’d heard them laugh so carefree in years.
Ella was lying on the beach towel next to me, and we were both watching the children play.
I was showing her an anonymous letter when I heard Andy shout.
‘Grandma, look!’ He grabbed Peter’s hand, pointing to a café on the beach. ‘That’s our mum and dad!’
My heart sank. Thirty feet away sat a woman with Monica’s dyed hair and graceful posture, leaning toward a man who could very well have been Stefan’s twin.
They were sharing a plate of fresh fruit.
‘Please watch them for a bit,’ I said to Ella, and my voice trailed off with excitement. She agreed without question, though I could read the worry in her eyes.